Wrong Side of Heaven
by enc0432
Summary: So I don't know why I really needed an assassination attempt on the Inquisitor so I thought I'd write it. Set about a year after the events of the game and canon-compliant until that point. Spoiler alert! Beta'd by TheFaye92 Dorian/Male Lavellan Romance.
1. Chapter 1

Something was wrong. Mahanon opened his eyes and jumped out of bed. The door exploded the next second, a dagger embedding itself in his chest. He pulled it out and threw it at his attacker, lodging it in the man's eye as his fellow tried to decapitate him with a sword. He ducked just in time, feeling the tip nick his throat, before grabbing the flat of the blade in both hands and tugging. It was a desperate move, cutting his hands in the process, but it worked. The thug hadn't been expecting it and was tugged off balance. Mahanon couldn't quite rip the sword away, his palms were too slick with blood. So he kneed the man in the groin now that he had him close, dropping him. That left one, a mage who grinned at him wickedly, raising his arms to cast.

"For the Followers of S-"

He was cut off by the dagger slicing his throat. Cole let the man drop, looking around the room with calm eyes. Mahanon turned to kneel next to the groaning swordsman on the floor.

"You're hurt."

Now that the fight was over Mahanon could feel the truth of that. His hands and chest burned, his shirt wet with blood. He could bide for a few more minutes though. His attention was focused on the gurgling noises emitting from the man on the floor. He was smiling, mouth starting to froth.

"The Followers of…She have succeeded…"

Mahanon grabbed him by the shirt. "The Followers of who?"

"Inquisitor…he's dying. He took poison."

The man coughed, already slipping. He started coughing, the blood mixing with his saliva. Mahanon let him drop in disgust, the light leaving his eyes. As he rose he stumbled straight into Cole, black spots flickering across his vision. Cole braced his shoulders. Mahanon shook his head, trying to clear his vision.

"Cole. Get Cassandra."

"The blades, they coated them in poison. You're dying too."

"Well…shit."

That was the last he could manage before he blacked out.

Cassandra was pacing outside of the Inquisitor's door, certain her concern was palpable. It had been a long, terrible night, and there seemed to be no end in sight. True to Cole's words, Mahanon was fighting for his very life. And there was nothing she could do to help. She had arrived too late, to find the elf looking very much the way those who feared the Dalish expected them took. A feral, tattooed creature covered in blood and surrounded by corpses. Only the blood had been his own, the poison already taking its toll. She could only hope the healers, both human and elven, could help him.

Cole chose that moment to reappear, shaking his head. "Not the spiders again. Why is it always spiders?"

Cassandra sighed, not even having the energy to ask. "Were you able to help him?"

"The antidote came too late. But he is strong. He fights against the poison. The old elf does not know how he has lasted this long. He walks in the fade now."

"Thank you Cole."

She was still uneasy around the boy, but time and again he had helped save the elf's life. Like tonight. She did not want to know what would have happened if Cole hadn't found Mahanon when he did. _It was a mistake to come to Wycome. I should have been more insistent we stay at Skyhold._ Much to her chagrin, Cole caught that.

"It's not your fault. He would have come with or without you. Skyhold is too empty for him now."

Cassandra opened her mouth to remind Cole to stay out of their heads, only to be interrupted by the door opening. The aged Keeper of clan Lavellan emerged with the local healer in tow, both looking drained. Istimaethoriel, a name Cassandra hadn't even attempted to pronounce, frowned when he saw her. His First emerged as well, black eyes as troubled as his elder's. The Keeper looked ready to say his piece when the human healer bowed, cutting off whatever the elf was about to say.

"Most Holy. I want to reassure you _I_ have done everything I can for the Inquisitor. Without the elves' interference I m-"

Cassandra waved her hand. "I am not Divine yet, and even then I would not want some sugar-coated version of the truth Ser Hammond. Keeper Lavellan how is he?"

"To put it plainly, he was given the antidote too late and lost too much blood. If he makes it through the night he might have a chance. But only just. If you'll excuse me, I want to explore some volumes I have tucked away that may hold some answers."

"Of course. Let me know if there are any resources you need access too. Ser Hammond shall assist your research in any way he can."

The man stiffened visibly, but was just smart enough not to argue. Not with the Inquisitor's life at stake. The older elf turned, gesturing the First to follow him. The young man paused, then looked to Cassandra.

"If it is alright, Lady Pentaghast, I would like to stay. Praying seems to be the only thing we can do now."

"I would not turn you or your prayers away at such a time."

The Keeper's frown deepened. "Ma nuevin Da'len. Ir na abelas."

The First bowed his head, as if in acquiescence. The tone of disapproval didn't fit the words granting permission. Cassandra put that away to puzzle over later. She gave a final nod to the two gentlemen and entered the room, taking the chair next to Mahanon's bed. He looked terrible, eyes roving in his sleep, the skin that was normally dark as an acorn far too pale and sickly looking.

She bowed her head and clasped her hand together, readying herself for this vigil. "Though all around me is shadow…"

Dorian sighed yet again, pouring over his letter to Mahanon. He knew coming back home was going to be difficult, but it had been far worse than he had imagined. He found he missed Skyhold despite how blasted cold the castle was, and now found Minrathous too warm and empty. The people he had thought he missed here, the ones he had been so determined to fight for, had nothing on the man he had left behind. He set his quill down and rubbed his temples, trying to get a certain pair of green eyes out of his head. Dorian had already decided he was heading back in six months during the summer. He just had to bide until then. Giving up on his own missive he threw sand on what he had and set it aside. He pulled out the elf's last letter, smiling to himself at the familiar hand. It was untidy and rough, the letter a mess of scratches and ink blots. And it was entirely Mahanon.

_Dearest Dorian…_

_Are you really coming home that soon? Please say yes so I don't fall to begging. It's undignified how often I'm on my knees for you. First things first, Cole would like you to know there is a package on the way that will help but he won't tell me what's in it. Oh and I love you. Now back to this secret package thing…_

He fell into reading, sipping at his wine and chuckling as he reread Mahanon's account of their trip to the Hissing Wastes and the giant spiders and wyverns that had almost eaten the Iron Bull. Every now and then Mahanon reminded him that he loved him and that he was an ass for leaving. Dorian was inclined to agree. He was absorbed, so he didn't hear the knock at the door, or see his father enter.

"Is that the letter from the Inquisitor again?"

His eyes snapped up and for a moment Dorian was sixteen again, debating shoving the note from his latest romp under what he was really supposed to be working on. He exhaled though, recalling himself, and nodded.

"It is."

His father seemed hesitant, hand on the doorway. Dorian was already irritated.

"If this is to be another lecture about him being an elf-"

The man raised a hand, pulling a paper from his robes. "No. It is not that. A note arrived not ten minutes ago from the Inquisition. My son I…"

Dorian did not like the look on his father's face one bit. It smacked of regret.

"Father what is it?"

"The elf is…he was attacked in Wycome. He did not survive."

Dorian froze. _No, it cannot…he cannot be…No!_

"You lie!"

He got to his feet, crossing the desk. He ripped the letter from his father's hands. Cullen's hand.

_Dorian, _

_I deeply regret that this duty has fallen to me. Mahanon was attacked by a cult in Wycome. They used poison blades, and the healers were unable to administer the antidote in time…_

He crumpled the letter in his hand, shaking his head. "No. This cannot be. This-"

He choked on the words, falling to his knees. He barely registered his father's hands on him, voice gentle. All he heard was the roaring in his ears as the world fell apart.


	2. Chapter 2

"I do love you too you know."

Mahanon didn't look up from the dagger he was edging. He was trying not to smile.

"Do you now?"

"Yes yes. And before you get all sentimental on me again, just know it's probably the brandy Varric has been plying me with all morning talking."

"Ah." Mahanon slid the whetstone up the blade. "And why has Varric been plying you with brandy all morning?"

Dorian sat down next to him, back to the stone wall. Unlike Mahanon, he didn't have any special fondness for heights.

"I've decided I'm not going."

His lips twitched despite himself. "Going where?"

The mage sighed dramatically. "Do try to keep up amatus. You know I was going back to Tevinter."

"But now you're not." Mahanon set his dagger and whetstone aside, tilting his head. "Why is that?"

"Fasta vass you know why." Dorian grabbed his chin, pulling him into a kiss.

Mahanon didn't taste any of this reported brandy, but he wasn't about to point that out. When they came up for air he noticed Dorian had wrapped one of his arms around his waist so that he wouldn't fall off the top of the battlement. He looked down and grinned.

"So you do care."

Dorian pressed his forehead to Mahanon's. "I just assume you look better not splattered all over the courtyard. Imagine the scandal it would cause."

"Lethallin I hate to interrupt but…"

_That voice._ Mahanon got to his feet, turning rapidly. Sure enough, it was Sulahn. His face was grave, the dark vallaslin covering half of his face somehow even darker than he remembered. Apprehension coursed through Mahanon at the sight of his old lover, though he was not sure why. Something was off about his presence though. He shouldn't be here.

"What are you doing here?"

The other elf was looking around, curious expression on his face. "So this is your heart's desire? A Tevinter Magister and a castle? Really?"

Mahanon clenched his jaw as Dorian rose to his feet. "Ah yes. An elf who hates humans. How original."

"Do not address me demon." Sulahn's eyes flashed as he looked at Dorian. "You cannot have him."

Dorian laughed, looking perplexed. Mahanon frowned, the knot in his stomach growing.

"Sulahn?"

"This isn't real emma vhenan. None of it. Not even _him_. You're trapped in the Fade."

To be fair, that did explain why Dorian had changed his mind. It hadn't happened that way. Mahanon turned to Dorian, who looked at him warmly.

"Are you a demon?"

"Does it matter? You're happy here. We can be together."

There were those damned puppy eyes. Mahanon sighed. _Fucking demons._ He looked at Sulahn.

"How do I know you're real?"

"Wake up and see Mahanon. You just have to _wake up_."

So he did. Mahanon opened his eyes to find Cassandra snoring softly in a chair next to him, Sulahn nowhere in sight. He had a feeling the damned fool had done something unsavory to get him out of the Fade. Which he was certain he was no longer in, mostly because he felt like he'd been trampled by a bronto. He sat up, not expecting his body to be as sore as it was. He tried to choke back a groan but Cassandra woke up anyways, dazed only for a moment.

"You're awake."

"So it seems." He took stock of his bandaged hands and stitched chest. "How long was I out?"

"Three days. Oh thank the Maker I wasn't sure…" She shook her head. "It is good you survived."

Mahanon tilted his head. "Alright, how bad was it?"

Cassandra snorted, getting to her feet. "Worse than when you stepped out of the Fade."

"That…is unsettling."

He tried to rise and Cassandra placed a hand on his chest, gently but firmly rebuffing him.

"What do you need?"

He didn't have the energy to fight her, laying back down. "A stiff drink and to talk to Istimaethoriel."

"I will fetch the Keeper. If you can go all the way downstairs and pour yourself the drink then you may have it."

"You are a cruel woman Most Holy."

She made a disgusted noise and shook her head. "Keep it up Inquisitor and I will write Dorian and tell him what happened in excruciating detail."

"I'll just have to settle for this divine looking water then."

"Good lad." She paused at the door, turning back. "I am glad you are alright Mahanon."

He inclined his head and she left. _Dorian the things you miss._ He stared at the ceiling, trying to pretend the ache in his heart wasn't there. He had survived, and he would see Dorian again. Whatever it took.

_Two weeks before Dorian was set to leave, Mahanon was suddenly completely absent from all of his duties. No meetings, no messengers appearing to call him away, and not a word from any of the advisors. Instead, Mahanon was somehow able to spend whole days and nights with Dorian. He would have called the elf canceling all of his duties ridiculous, a silly notion that the needs of the Inquisition were suddenly less important than Dorian. Would have, if he wasn't going to miss the damned Dalish so much. _

_Yet the guilt weighed on him. He didn't know how long he was going to be gone, and as much as he wanted Mahanon to wait for him, he couldn't ask that of the elf. The man was the Inquisitor after all, in command of a kingdom's worth of forces. He was wealthy, powerful, and handsome to boot. He had every right to move on after Dorian left. He decided he had to let Mahanon know that Dorian didn't expect him to wait. _

_He left it too late. Having Mahanon's undivided attention for a change proved too much of a temptation. Thus, it was the night before they were going to set out before he even broached the subject. They were on the balcony, actually watching the stars, Dorian keeping the elf wrapped tightly in his arms. He shifted the blanket around them, trying to find the right words. _

_"Dorian if you sigh one more time I might start to think you're going to miss me." _

_He chuckled a little, but even that hurt. The elf twisted in his arms. He saw the concern there and cast his eyes down. Mahanon tilted his head. _

_"There's something else besides you leaving isn't there?" _

Damn him._ No one else had ever been so good at reading Dorian. It was rather off-putting at times. _

_"Amatus I…" He broke off, disentangling himself from the elf and going back inside. "I just need you to know if while I'm away and someone else catches your eye, so to speak, you should feel free to be with them." _

_"'Catches my eye?'" _

_Dorian nodded, forcing levity into his voice. "Strikes your fancy, stirs your loins, gives you butterflies. You know what I'm saying." _

_"Fenedhis emma vhenan! What brought this madness on?" _

_"It is not madness. I know who you are. What you are. I cannot ask you to…" _

_The elf glared at him. "You think I would do that to you? Or that I'm even capable?" _

_"Kaffas! That is not what I meant." _

_"Is that what you want then? To be free of any obligation before you leave?" _

_"No!" Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course not." _

_Now he felt like a fool. He'd fucked this whole conversation up. The elf watched him, brow furrowed. Dorian hung his head. Mahanon's turn to sigh then, going to his desk. _

_"I was saving this for when we reached the port but I think it's necessary now." He grabbed something in his hand, crossing the room. _

_"What is it?" _

_The elf snorted. "Hopefully something that'll remind you of me while you're off saving the Imperium from itself." _

_Dorian tilted his head as Mahanon took his hand in rough ones, placing the token in his palm. It was a simple ironbark ring. The elf rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking embarrassed. _

_"It's the only thing I took with me from home that survived the conclave. My mother gave it to me when I received the vallaslin. I had hoped you might like it…" _

_Tears pricked at Dorian's eyes and he shook his head. "Of course I do but…" _

_Mahanon curled his hand over the ring. "Then it is yours. As am I. Don't forget that." _

_"Never." _

_Dorian pulled the elf into a rough embrace, narrowly missing crying. Now was not the time for tears. _

The fucking memories were going to be the death of him. Or the dwarven ale he was downing like water to forget them. It didn't work though. Mahanon was everywhere. There was no escape from the pain. He found himself staring at the man's ring, tracing its every line and groove. _It's my fault Amatus. I could have saved you._ _Maker forgive me. _

Mahanon stormed into Cullen's room, Cassandra nipping on his heels. It didn't matter he was dizzy, barely able to walk or even stand under his own willpower. He was too angry.

"You told Dorian I was dead? Have you lost all of your senses?"

"Inquisitor really this display is-"

Mahanon rounded on Cassandra. "Don't. This display is necessary. Why would you put him through that? Either of you?"

He swayed a little, forgoing pretense in favor of leaning on Cullen's borrowed desk. The blonde man sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Instead of answering he pulled something from his drawer.

"One of our men found this when we traced the Followers of She back to their rooms."

He placed it on the desk. Mahanon felt his stomach lurch a bit. It was Dorian's amulet. He lifted his eyes to Cullen's, seeing the certainty reflected there. Mahanon didn't want it to be true, but he knew better.

"Dorian's being watched."

"We all are. I think if the attempt failed, which for all intents and purposes it hasn't, then he was their next target. I hate to say this Lavellan but if word gets out you're alive, he may very well be in danger."

Mahanon gave up standing, groping for the chair. He waved Cullen off when the man half-rose to get him. Cassandra just made a disgusted noise behind him. Mahanon took Dorian's amulet in hand, running his thumb over the Pavus family crest. He had always thought it was hideous.

"What do we know about them?"

"They're a cult dedicated to She."

Mahanon snorted. "So the Followers of She are a cult…following She. Good work Commander."

"You know next time you're assassinated you could always ask Josephine to handle the investigation."

"Point taken." Mahanon slipped the amulet into his pocket. "What now?"

Cullen leaned back, drumming his fingers on his desk. "You rest and heal. We let the rumors spread you're dead, for now. That buys us time. Then we get you out of Wycome and back to Skyhold. Leliana and her spies will be able to find where the Followers are we eliminate them."

"Simple as that?"

The other man snorted. "If we're lucky. But we will find them Inquisitor. Count on it. This is…"

"If you or Cassandra tell me it's your fault one more time-"

"But it is. And we're going to correct it."

Cassandra decided to chime in. "Agreed."

Mahanon sighed but shrugged in defeat. "I'm going back to bed. You have two weeks before I write Dorian and tell him I'm alive."

He rose, not waiting for the arguments. Cassandra made a move to help as groped at the door frame. He shook his head and made the long walk back on his own. He'd already made up his mind to go to Minrathos as soon as he could walk. His gut told him Dorian was still in danger, and the Inquisition was damned if they thought he was going to sit around and wait until it was too late to help him.

Sulahn watched Mahanon closely. Had been, actually, ever since he'd come to Wycome, despite Mahanon avoiding him at all costs. He wanted to see if his lover had really changed so much in so short a time. Turned out, he hadn't. At first, Sulahn had been disgusted with him. If half the rumors were true, he was little better than the shemlen who had uplifted him. Living in a fortress, playing lord, taking a _magister_ as a lover. The thought sickened him. It wasn't jealousy, not really. Mahanon had moved on, that was acceptable. But falling for a human, of all the stupid things to do, it had made Sulahn bitter. Even when Mahanon sent men to help the clan against bandits, or again when they'd come to Wycome and the nobles had attacked them, Sulahn blamed him for their troubles, and again for not helping them himself.

Now, he realized how much of his anger had been remorse. Mahanon had left because of him, and having him back, even angry, was a relief. Let him be angry, if it meant having a chance to apologize, to fix things between them. To rebuild trust. First things first though. Sulahn slipped away from the clan the evening after Mahanon came to them, letting him now he lived. As usual, their Da'fen trusted too easily, letting so many people know he was alive. And as usual, it was Sulahn who was going to have to protect him from himself.

Leaving his staff behind, Sulahn stuck to the shadows, making his way quickly to the danker parts of the city. The docks were crowded and rowdy, no one looking twice even at a Dalish elf. His contact waited for him at the Shark's Tooth, a ruddy-faced elf uncharacteristically fat for their kind. His vallaslin were stretched thin over his features, the bright green at odds with his reddened complexion. The man waved Sulahn over enthusiastically.

"You're late! Is it done?"

Sulahn wrinkled his nose, taking a chair and the mug Nehn shoved his way. "It is. He lives, and he has the amulet."

The noise in the tavern seemed to only increase as the older elf grinned. "Excellent. And you're sure he'll go after him?"

"Aye. If there is one thing Mahanon can't resist, it's playing the hero. He thinks he's in love. He'll go."

"You do Fen'harel proud Sulahn."

Sulahn frowned, but drank with Nehn anyways. It was not the Dread Wolf's approval he was seeking, and he had to do something to crush the doubt. The fake assassination had been too close for his liking. But he would press on. Mahanon, and the clan, would thank him someday. He was sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

_The elf was fascinating. His eyes were even the same color as the rifts, wild and near-feral looking. He moved like a wolf, walking without making a sound, coming and going as he pleased without being seen. He actually seemed to enjoy the woods and camping, though he spoke little to any of them, so Dorian was never quite certain. Then there was that nasty habit of disappearing for hours at a time. Slipping past the guards at night, both in Haven and in camp. Dorian had not a clue as to where he went. It was amusing how Cassandra would rage though. Apparently, it happened a lot. _

_One such evening, Cassandra and Blackwall were arguing about it, Blackwall trying to convince her the Herald was a grown man and capable of taking care of himself. It was giving Dorian a headache. He'd read the same sentence five times, unable to focus with the woman yelling. He just so happened to agree with Blackwall, but he was rather fond of his good looks and didn't relish saying as much to Cassandra's face. Not at the moment anyways. Finally, the voices died and he looked up, almost starting visibly when he saw Mahanon. The elf was carrying a dead ram over his shoulder, dripping blood all over the floor of the tent. _

_His face was lined with pain and Dorian sat up, tilting his head. "If this is some kind of Dalish mating ritual…" _

_The elf snorted. "We use nug calls for that actually." _

_"Not hallas? Really?" _

_"Too majestic. Nugs set the mood better." _

_The elf winced, clutching his arm. Dorian closed his book and rose. _

_"Let me see that. Cassandra will have my head as well if she finds you injured." _

_"It's fine. Really." _

_Dorian shook his head. "Ah yes. I forget how leaving pools of blood everywhere is considered a sign of health down here." _

_"What's that called in Tevinter?" _

_"Silly elf. That's breakfast of course." _

_Mahanon's mouth twitched again and he set the ram down, going to Dorian's cot. He peeled back his damaged sleeve. Whatever had been at him had ripped through the leather. _

_"If it will make you feel better…" _

_Dorian rolled his eyes as he knelt before the elf and took his arm in hand. "Ah yes, stopping you from bleeding to death is for my benefit. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but the ram didn't do this." _

_"Ah. Not exactly, no." _

_He almost seemed embarrassed. Dorian probed the wound as gently as he could, even still the Herald winced. _

_"Can I ask why you're killing rams like a savage in the middle of the night? Or is that too personal a question as well?" _

_Mahanon pinned him with those impossible eyes, the lantern making the shadows of his face even darker. _He hasn't been sleeping. _The elf never stood still long enough to give any indication to his health, but Dorian could see it now. The man was exhausted. Little wonder, now that he stopped to think about it. The moment dragged on, Dorian suddenly very aware of how close Mahanon was to him, and how warm the skin under his hands felt. He raised an eyebrow in question and the elf seemed to come to a decision. _

_"I've been hunting for the villagers. We haven't been able to track down what's making the wolves go crazy, and the bandits keep us too busy during the day. So I thought…" _

_"You'd take care of it at night. How…noble. And here I thought you were avoiding us humans." _

_Mahanon grinned, suddenly wolfish. "Not all of you are so bad. Gotta do something about those ears though." _

_Dorian chuckled and cast his spell quickly. This was getting dangerously close to something beyond flirting. It was…intimate. Too intimate for his tastes. _

_"There. I think you'll live if you stop taking on wolf packs alone." _

_"Ma serannas lethallin." The elf flexed his arm and rose. "Oh, and if Cassandra asks…" _

_Dorian snorted. "I shall tell her you're dancing naked in the moonlight like a proper elf." _

_Mahanon smiled again, not looking quite as tired. He bent and picked up the goat, leaving as silently as he had come. The next night, Dorian was eating with Cassandra and Blackwall, the conversation turning towards taking out the mages now that the rogue templars had been dealt with. He found he was looking for the elf, not consciously realizing he was doing so until their eyes met, the elf pausing at the edge of the camp. One foot in the firelight, one in the dark. He pressed a solitary finger to his lips and slipped off into the night with a smile._

Mahanon packed lightly. His normal clothes, minus the light armor plate for his chest and arms. His collection of daggers. Dorian's amulet and a book of Tevinter poetry he'd been rather forcibly assigned before the man left. Skin cream to hide the vallaslin and a cloak to hide his ears. It was easy enough to slip something in his new bodyguard's drink, leaving the sleeping tonic in plain view in case Cullen was inclined to blame the man instead of Mahanon himself. He left in the middle of the night, trying to ignore Revas' baleful eyes as he saddled a horse instead of the hart. He didn't want to leave the creature behind, but riding him into Tevinter was just begging for the slavers to notice he was an elf.

That knot in his stomach tightened as he rode. He felt moderately guilty for leaving like a thief, but it was nothing on his guilt where Dorian was concerned. Hundreds of leagues apart, and the man was still in danger because of him. It was enough to make him ride through the night, only stopping in the morning for the horse's sake. He found a cave next to a stream, big enough to hide him and the horse, which he'd mentally dubbed Crookytail, from the road. He unsaddled the creature and went to get them some water, trying to focus on his surroundings and not his increasing anxiety.

It didn't help when he got to the cave and an all too familiar voice met his ears. "You really didn't think that would work, did you?"

He wasn't quite sure how he managed to sober up, but he did. It took two days and the worst hangover of his life. A comfortable numbness had settled over Dorian, something he hid in. When everything got less blurry and the pain started to creep back in, he took a hot bath. Fixed his hair, trimmed his mustache. Anything to keep his mind off what had happened. The grief was too vast, threatening to drown him if he looked directly at it. Instead, he kept his hands busy. He had work to do. Letters to write. The responses came back far more quickly than he'd anticipated. Leliana had been aggravatingly vague, telling him she was sorry but had nothing for him. Josephine had asked him to be patient like that was a reasonable expectation. It was bullshit, but luckily Varric and Iron Bull had been more forthcoming. They both had nothing but rumors, being as stonewalled as he was by official channels.

But they had given him a name. The Followers of She.

Armed with that, he went down to breakfast for the first time since Cullen's first letter. Both of his parents seemed surprised to find him there, his presence shocking them into silence. Thankfully, they didn't try to talk to him. His mother just passed him a plate of grapes, graceful fingers touching his for but a moment, before turning back to bicker with his father about her spending budget for the month. It was exactly like every other morning before he'd left home, and he ate quickly. It was like chewing ash, but academically he knew he needed something.

He had work to do.

"You really didn't think that would work, did you?"

Sulahn had a shit-eating grin on his face. There had been a time when Mahanon had loved that smile and all it promised. Now he wanted knock his teeth out. Might've, if Cassandra and Cole didn't step into the cave.

"Give me one good reason not to drag you back to Skyhold by your ear."

Mahanon refused to turn his back on Sulahn, but he did turn his head slightly to glare at Cassandra.

"Because I am not an errant child?"

She snorted, folding her arms. "Could have fooled me."

"He needs me. He could be killed. Body broken, bloody, bruised…I have to help him. Both of you are afraid." Cole looked between the two of them. "You shouldn't argue. It just makes the hurt worse."

"Sulahn you need to go back then. It's too dangerous."

Mahanon was losing, but he could mitigate the damage. Bad enough Dorian was in danger. He didn't need Sulahn involved as well. Whatever he felt for him now. The First's smile just deepened.

"Oh no emma vhenan. This is far too entertaining."

"Fenedhis! Ar tu na'din!" He turned to Cassandra and Cole. "Accompany me if you feel you must, but I'm not going back. Now leave us. I have to speak with Sulahn alone."

Cassandra was clearly not done having it out. Cole frowned.

"Nose broken, copper taste in mouth. 'Ar tu na'din Sulahn!' Why do you want to hurt him?"

Mahanon took a steadying breath, trying not to lose his temper. "I'll explain later Cole. Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt anybody who doesn't deserve it. Cass…please."

She was eyeing Sulahn warily. She caught Mahanon's eye and nodded.

"Come along Cole. We should find fresh food while we still have the chance."

When they were out of earshot Mahanon turned to Sulahn, clenching his fists.

"Go back. I don't want your help."

"If I knew you were going to be so grateful…"

He clenched his jaw. "Should you be rewarded for doing the right thing? After everything you put me through to begin with?"

"Yes I wounded you severely I see. Poor Da'fen with his castle and all of the shems scraping their noses on the floor in his presence."

"Vishante kaffas I have met Orlesian nobles less obnoxious and spoilt than you."

"You didn't have to run straight to the shems. Not because of me."

Mahanon snorted, shaking his head. "You think that the Keeper came to me after all of that and asked what I wanted? He gave me the choice. Leave of my own free will, do something to aid the people, or be cast out and never allowed to return. It was made very clear to me I was not supposed to come home after I found out what I could from the humans."

For the first time, Sulahn showed a glimpse of the man he used to be. The sweet boy Mahanon had grown up with and not whatever bitter man he was trying to be now.

"I…I thought you didn't want to come back. Not after the humans uplifted you like they did. I thought you'd changed."

"No. That was you." Mahanon ran a hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted. "Go back. Please. We can work it out once I rescue Dorian."

Sulahn's face shuttered again, his lips curling unpleasantly. "Ah yes. Him."

"If you loathe the idea of me loving a human so much then _go home_."

"No. I think I'll stay. Rescue your pet with you." Sulahn gave an exaggerated bow. "Your Worship."

He slipped past Mahanon with another sly grin. His borrowed horse snorted and Mahanon turned on him.

"Now don't you start."

The horse just shook his man in response, then started snuffing at the saddlebags for treats. Mahanon sighed and went to find him an apple.

Dorian slammed the volume closed, letting out a long string of curses. The cleric running the university library gave him a withering glance. Or attempted to, until he recognized who he was glaring at. Dorian ignored him, ready to start drinking again. Try as he might, he could not find one useful scrap of information on these Followers of She. They had originated in the Imperium. That was as far as he had gotten. Not one single hint as to who She was, or why the group would have gone after…He shook his head and frowned at the book like it was its fault for being useless. Giving up for the night he decided to go back to the manse. His father might have books he missed.

He didn't speak to anyone on the way out. His former peers avoided him like the plague. Something he was grateful for. They no longer had anything in common, if they ever truly did. Funny, how he had become better friends with a Qunari than the people he had grown up with. Flouting every tradition would do that he supposed. Or falling in love with the heretical Herald of Andraste.

Dorian realized he'd been so lost in thought he had wandered. His feet had carried him to his favorite part of Minrathous. It was a park of all places, the one where he'd met Alexius for the first time, chasing some stray papers the breeze had decided to free. It was empty this time of night, quiet. In all honesty, he'd rather be here than at the manse. The walls that had once felt safe were now threatening to stifle the little life he had left in him. He was so lost in the thought he never saw what knocked him out.


End file.
